Thursday, December 6, 2012

Brokepass Mountain

I've got one of those bus passes that's electronically loaded each month. Last week I sat on it and cracked it with my powerful right glute, rendering it inoperable.

I called and ordered a new card and was told it would arrive in five to seven business days. No big deal, I thought. I've had the same driver for a couple of months. I'll just tell him what the story is and he'll remember, possibly with a little prompting, from that moment forward.

Well dip me in Tang and call me John Boehner, if a new driver didn't show up on my inaugural morning with a useless bus pass. And the next day another new driver. And the next day a different one, yet. By gum, I've had a different driver each of the past four days.

It's been interesting.

Day One

Me: Morning.

Driver: Good morning, sir.

Me (brandishing my scotch-taped card): My card's broken.

Driver: Can you try to tap it?

Me (fruitlessly tapping): Yeah, see.

Driver: All right, bro. Go ahead.

Day Two

Driver (after seeing that my pass doesn't work): Do you have any cash?

Me: No. Plus, this thing costs ninety bucks a month.

Driver: Next time, just bring some cash.

Me (walking away): Yeah, maybe.

As I retreated down the aisle, the driver's voice continued. Was he still talking to me? Who else would he be talking to? Do I stop in the aisle and try to hear what he's saying? Should I return to the front?

A purse? Since then, I've found out that "ePurse" is a service for manually loading your bus card. I'm thinking if the driver had said "ePurse," rather than "Do you have a pass or a purse?" it may have held a bit more context.

So anyway, you're welcome, Metro. No charge for being your customer service mole ever since my card broke. In the final analysis, the drivers I encountered were courteous and accommodating, albeit a little quirky.